


I Pick My Poison And It's You

by Oosh04



Series: One-Shots [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Army, Death, Deployment, F/F, Hurt, Love, One Shot, injured
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4960291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oosh04/pseuds/Oosh04
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Clarke’s trying to sell her artwork outside an airport and Lexa’s in the army. Clarke witnesses her departure and arrival back in the country each time she’s deployed and Lexa can’t get enough of the blonde artist welcoming her home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Pick My Poison And It's You

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I realise I have a lot of other pics but I thought that if I do a one-shot fix it’ll get all the random ideas out of my system so I can concentrate on my others. Please feel free to send me any ideas you have for prompts. This wasn’t, it came from my own head, but I’d be happy to take a look at some prompts. (Either on here, FanFiction.net or Tumblr. Which is Oosh if you didn’t know already)

Clarke doesn’t know why she chose the airport of all places to sell her work. It was no better off than her failed attempt at reaching out to collectors or even selling them on the streets of New York. Then again maybe she hoped that she would be able to side-step a few flyers still on the come-down of a well-earned holiday. Most of the time they were in no mood to even glance at her work but once or twice she would catch the odd family laughing and still in holiday mode (She usually sold one or two paintings to those kind of families).

Being around airports made for an interesting time. Sure, she hardly earned enough to keep the rent going and the lights in her apartment had cut out (again) last night. But she would make those sacrifices all over again for what she witnessed on her self-proclaimed eight-hour shift.

Clarke witnessed more stressed business men, rushed families and heartfelt ‘goodbyes’ in a day before most people had even left for work. She enjoyed nodding a ‘hello’ to Raven on the check-in desk and Jasper and monty never failed to make her laugh. Even Octavia, her room-mate, came down with her some days and improvised by busking (Shockingly that just scared her patrons away). But what always caught her attention, and never ceased to amaze, was the amount of army men and women she witnessed travelling through. Sometimes they were alone, sometimes with families and sometimes they travelled in groups. The best part was recognising a few of the faces as they passed back through. The worst was seeing the remnants of war scared across their faces (both physically and mentally). 

Clarke had been at this for about a year and half by the time she finally noticed her. She was with another two women and a man, all dressed in their uniforms and wearing the same intense (yet slightly soft, hinting at their first deployment) looks on their faces. There was no family with them as they strode up the path towards the airport and for a brief moment Clarke considered cutting them off on their way in.

She quickly shook that thought from her head. They were about to fly into a war zone, the last thing they needed was her barging in.

The one that had caught her attention stood in the middle. Her brown curls pulled back from her face in tight braids and the blank expression not quite meeting the excitement of her companions.

Clarke watched them walk inside the airport, her eyes lingering a second too long, before turning back with a slight shake of her head. Even if she did see her again it would be a brief moment as she re-entered the country.

She did re-enter the country and the man stopped briefly to talk with Octavia as he ‘admired’ the artwork (though he did leave with two of Clarke’s pieces). Her eyes met the brunette’s briefly and Clarke stashed away the shade of green into her memory.

XoXoXoX

It was two months before Clarke saw her again.

She had taken a small break after sitting in the cold December weather for four hours before finally caving in. Octavia wasn’t with her but she stood with Raven outside Starbucks waiting for their coffee.

“Eight hour shifts are brutal,” Raven grumbled as she rubbed her hands together in an attempt to warm them. It was warmer inside the airport, but not by much, and Clarke was silently dreading going back out there.

“At least you’re not outside in it.”

Raven gave her a sympathetic look, “True, but at least you didn’t have a middle-aged mother yelling at you stating that you’re doing your job wrong and that she is entitled to an extra carry-on despite not actually paying for it.”

Clarke chuckled just as her name was called. She leant over to retrieve her cup when a hand brushed hers and she looked up in shock to see the same shade of green staring back. 

The brunette smiled softly as he hand pulled back from Clarke’s with her own coffee in tow. Clarke blinked in surprise as Monty shoved her cup into her hand.

The woman gave a nod and raised her drink slightly, “Sorry,” There was a slight smirk dancing across her lips, “I guess the prospect of waiting three hours for a delayed flight makes me even more eager for caffeine.”

Clarke shook her head viciously, not wanting her to think she was annoyed, “No, no… It’s fine don’t worry I just-” She bit her lips momentarily not sure whether to bring up their chance meeting the two months previously. She didn’t want it to seem like she had been turning it over in her mind since that day (She had) and been searching for the brunette in the crowd during her deployment (She had).

In the end she caved, “Haven’t we met before?”

The brunette frowned and Clarke panicked, afford she might now have to pinpoint the exact moment they had in fact met, but then the woman’s face split into a grin as she raised a thumb over her shoulder in an indication to the airport entrance, “You sell the art outside.”

She felt out a slight puff of relief and smiled back with a nod, “Yeah that’s me. Everyday of the year except weekends and holidays.”

Her reward was a chuckle that sent Clarke’s heart spinning embarrassingly. “Sounds illuminating.”

“It’s more interesting than you’d think.”

Another chuckle as she lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip before smirking at Clarke, “Tell me about it.”

Now it was Clarke’s turn to laugh, “I don’t think we have time.”

“Three hour delay,” She shrugged.

And that’s how Clarke spent the next three hours sitting outside with a brunette huddled at her side (too close for Clarke’s heart to take) describing the people she spotted day and night. She learnt that the man’s name who had spoken to Octavia was Lincoln and even managed to score his number for her (Because, “He won’t stop going on about the girl at the airport and being in the army is tiring enough without listening to him prattling on.”)

The brunette glanced at her phone and winced, “I really should head to my gate now.”

“You never told me where you were heading,” Clarke had noticed the lack of uniform but elected to ignore it.

“California,” She shrugged at Clarke’s surprise, “Heading home for Christmas to see the family.”

Clarke nodded and watched as she picked up her bag and prepared to leave. Just before she entered the woman stopped and turned back to the blonde, “I never did get your name?”

“Clarke,” She smiled.

“Lexa.” And then she was gone.

Clarke saw her again five days into January as she prepared to start the New Year. Lexa insisted on buying Clarke a coffee and didn’t leave the airport until she had one of Clarke’s paintings stuffed under her arm.

XoXoXoX

It was a shorter gap until she saw the brunette again and like the first time she was with Lincoln and the other two women. Except this time they actually stopped by Clarke’s spot and Lexa beamed at her as she asked about her Christmas and New Years. She was introduced to Echo and Tris. Echo was similar to Lexa and seemed almost eager to get on that flight whereas Tris still held some element of innocence. Even only meeting them once she could feel the protectiveness from the other three over the younger girl.

Lexa seemed almost reluctant to leave Clarke’s side this time but she took it in her stride and shot Clarke a wink as the others made their way inside, “Be here when I get back?”

Get back, Clarke thought but didn’t say. Instead she pretended to think about it and rolled her eyes, “I have nowhere better to be soldier. Besides, their coffee still remains unbeaten.”

She couldn’t admit to the fear she felt for the brunette after only talking to her three times (If you could even count the awkwardness that was the shameless flirting of Octavia and Lincoln.)

Lexa placed a hand over her chest in mock hurt, “You wound me Clarke… and here I was thinking you were my own personal welcome party.”

“If you’re feeling lucky.”

She watched them go and let out a sigh before sitting back down with her paintings. That night she felt herself mixing a familiar shade of green but caught herself before touching the canvas. She didn’t paint again for the rest for the week.

When they returned this time it was raining. Tris wasn’t with them.

XoXoXoX

Clarke saw Lincoln before she saw Lexa. He was out of uniform and looked to just be passing through but his eyes lit up as he spotted Octavia sitting next to the blonde. It had been a month since their return and Octavia had been hinting at meeting up with Lincoln in the course of that time. Though Clarke had been a little distracted to notice (She somehow accumulated a large quantity of Lexa portraits and one of Tris that she actually couldn’t even remember starting but before she knew it the girl’s smiling face was on the page).

Lincoln, it transpired, had come purely to see Octavia. He sat with them for the rest of the day until it was time to pack-up and even offered to drive them back to their apartment instead of getting a cab. 

Before they parted ways that night Octavia coerced Clarke into joining them for drinks. She agreed, in the hope that she would see Lexa, but it turned out to be just the three of them. As Clarke stood to leave the pub she handed Lincoln the painting of Tris and asked if he could pass it on to Lexa. he agreed full heartedly.

When Clarke arrived back to her makeshift stall on the Monday a warn cup of coffee sat waiting for her. Along the side was written ‘Thank You’.

XoXoXoX

Clarke couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that her days became centred around the possibility of seeing the brunette again but they did. 

Over the months that followed she found herself scanning the crowd for Lexa, in and out, but came up with nothing. It even got to the point of asking Raven about check-in. It became so annoying for the other woman that she didn’t even glance up from her computer as she shook her head upon Clarke’s approach.

When she next did see Lexa the brunette was leaving rather than arriving. The blonde hadn’t even heard her approach before the sound of a throat being cleared forced her to look up. The brunette was smiling nervously at her.

“Hi,” was all she offered.

Clarke wanted to be angry, she really did, because the last few months had been ones filled with fear. Fear that she had missed Lexa boarding a plane and fear that she might have died over there… Fear that whatever friendship had been forming had been destroyed by something completely out of her control.

But she couldn’t be angry, how could she? She had no right in having that fear about someone she had only ever talked to in passing in an airport. Clarke barely knew Lexa and their small exchanges of coffee weren’t enough to merit fear over the other’s death, was it? or maybe it was. Maybe at some point during those exchanges, against their own knowledge, the two had shared something that made one equally as important to the other. Maybe at Clarke’s own fear of the woman not returning she too had been fearful of not coming back, of not catching that flight and getting another coffee with Clarke. Maybe they didn’t need to know each other.

So, instead of saying that, she just said, “Coffee?”

Maybe that had become their thing. Getting a coffee, sitting together and freezing as Clarke attempted to make a name for herself. Maybe that was their story.

Lexa hadn’t been dealing with Tris’ death well, she told her, and the army had forced her into therapy sessions before returning to active duty. She told Clarke of how she blamed herself because that shot was meant for her, it had been aimed at her, but Tris had never been the one to sit out on a fight. Lexa told her of how she had been forced to drag Tris, half-dead, to safety where she waited painfully for extraction.

Maybe Clarke did know Lexa. She knew the woman didn’t want her sympathy and instead chose to talk about things that, really, held no meaning. Lexa looked relieved at the change of subject and grasped Clarke’s offered hand with a look of gratitude. There was a silent plea for Clarke to understand and, though she might never understand war, she understood grief and understood what the brunette needed. So maybe she did know Lexa… and maybe that was enough.

“What’s your favourite colour?” Lexa asked randomly as they watched a small child strop in front of them; much to the dismay of the mother.

“My favourite colour?”

Lexa nodded, “You paint… What’s your favourite?”

Clarke inclined her head thoughtfully, “I never really considered having a favourite. They all have their uses in the moment that I need them… Brown isn’t particularly pleasant to look at but then it can be beautiful in the right image with the right shade.”

“So…” Lexa trailed off, her eyes still fixed on the boy causing his mother so much grief, “You like all of them equally?”

“I’m all for equality,” She teased.

The brunette snorted into her coffee and Clarke watched her in amusement, “What’s yours?”

Lexa immediately looked away, a slight blush creeping up her neck, “It used to be green,” was all she said but Clarke didn’t push.

XoXoXoX

The next two of Lexa’s deployment passed both quickly and slowly for Clarke. She saw the woman out with Octavia and Lincoln on a number of occasions but neither seemed to want to make the leap that was spending time together alone. 

Still that didn’t stop Clarke watch the three soldiers go with a heavy heart. The time they were in America seemed to pass by so fleetingly whereas the time between them returning passed so agonisingly slowly for Clarke. The only difference now was that she actually knew when the brunette was set to return.

On the last deployment (Clarke noted it was the last because Lexa was considering moving into a different unit. Lincoln claimed she was after something closer to home or at least long at home) Lexa went alone.

Echo had been suffering with PTSD from their previous deployment and was deemed unfit to return. Lincoln himself had left the army, something Octavia was thrilled about, feeling that his life was much more grounded now. He told Clarke in private that the flying back and forth was too much stress and slowly Octavia had become more important to him. Clarke admired him for that and knew that Lexa did too but the brunette wasn’t done with the army, informing them that she had joined up two years ago (nearly three) on a whim but it had slowly become more than that. Clarke admired Lexa too.

It didn’t make watching her go any easier though.

Clarke waited. She kept track of the days, began counting down and found herself watching the news more often than usual. The funny thing was, life carried on as it always had, and she watched people walk by her in the airport.

Maybe it was a testimony to how much had changed since she first saw Lexa but she no longer enjoyed watching the flyers pass her by. There was no fun in trying to guess theses people’s lives when her own was so centred around the brunette that she was waiting so anxiously for to walk through those doors.

Months turned into weeks, turning into days until she was left with mere hours. 

Clarke noted the arrival of Lexa’s plane that morning before setting about her usual spot. It carried on as normal.

She watched people pass her by, nodded to those she recognised, and couldn’t help but beam along with the sun above her.

Clarke checked her watch down to the last minute but couldn’t stop herself glancing back at the doors as if they would reveal the brunette a few hours earlier.

She didn’t know at what point her life became so centred around the brunette but it had happened and she wasn’t about to throw that away.

The time arrived and Clarke sat eagerly in front of the doors. A new hoard of arrivals pushed past her and she scanned the crowd for a familiar face. It wasn’t until the crowd had died down and the doors had closed that it finally settled in.

Lexa wasn’t there.

She hadn’t arrived.

Still, she waited. Clarke abandoned her paintings and merely stood by the exit pleading for her to just be a straggler.

It was dark by the time Octavia arrived with Lincoln in tow. Their faces were enough to break down what little resolve she had left and Clarke welcomed Octavia’s embrace with a sob that wracked her body.

The car ride home was quiet and Clarke just sat there in Octavia’s arms waiting for someone to tell her, to explain, what had happened.

It wasn’t until Clarke was sat, showered, with a mug of hot chocolate that Lincoln finally explained. He explained how he received a call minuted before Lexa’s flight was due that the brunette had been injured in an explosion, it was critical and they couldn’t afford to transport her back yet.

She wasn’t dead.

Clarke could hold onto that small amount of hope taking hold inside her chest. 

Octavia insisted Clarke take some time off but she refused, refused to leave the airport until Lexa was home because, as the brunette had said herself, Clarke was her welcome party.

It wasn’t the same though and with each day that passed Clarke found herself detesting the building even more. Yet still she stayed, waiting and hoping on Lexa.

XoXoXoX

Clarke began packing up the last of her paintings with a heavy heart. It had been a bad day for sales and the mid-year crunch, or lack of money, certainly wasn’t helping matters. Not that she herself was helping, her heart just hadn’t been in it of late and even Clarke would admit that her work was going drastically down hill.

She didn’t register the sound of crutches to begin with, nor the boots that appeared in the corner of her vision, but it was the clearing of the throat that had her freezing. Her whole body seized, her eyes wide but still she refused to turn around. Refused to even entertain the idea.

“Clarke,” the warmth in the way her name was spoken, the way it seemed to test out every syllable and vowel there was to offer. The way it brought back the remnants of Clarke’s own weakened heart. As if just saying the name would chase away their own demons.

Yet she would not turn. Would not turn and find nothing, would not face that gut-wrenching disappointment again.

“Please,” The whisper of the word that she would of missed had the warmth of the body not covered her own as the figure behind her stepped ever closer, “Please turn around.”

“For what?” She clenched her eyes shut, “You to disappear again.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” The voice said, “I’m here now, here to stay.”

Stay. A word with so much promise and meaning that Clarke couldn’t afford to consider if she wanted to keep what remained of her heart.

“How do I know it’s you… How do I know you’re really here?”

A warm palm pressed tentatively against her waist as a pressure leant against the back of her head. She felt the chest against her back move with the steady rise and fall of their breathing, “I’m here,” they breathed again, “Blue.”

Her eyes snapped open, “What?”

“You asked me what my favourite colour was… Blue. Blue like your eyes, blue like the only thing I could see when trapped under that rubble… The only thing that kept me fighting. Your blue, a blue nobody else has and it’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. Please turn around Clarke.”

So she does. She does and there’s Lexa leaning on one crutch, battered and bruised but alive. Alive and here.

Clarke lifts her hands up to cup the brunette’s cheek (being careful of the remaining remnants of bruises and healed scars now lining her once clear features) she swiped her thumb gently across her lips.

“You’re here,” She breathed in disbelief.

“To stay.” Lexa confirmed… And that was all the assurance Clarke needed to close the distance and capture the brunette’s lips in a firm but gentle kiss. A kiss she had waited too long and felt too much pain for it to be worth it. Maybe it wasn’t, yet maybe it was. After all she hardly knew Lexa.

And yet, maybe she did know her.


End file.
